Best (Friends) Forever
by Kat Dakuu
Summary: They say the triangle is the strongest shape. No single side bears the full weight as each leans against the other. Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis are BFFs who just moved in together. Will their friendship survive a whirlwind romance and their individual troubles? Human au.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I'm going to make this note right off the bat. The title should be written with 'friends' crossed out but that format seems not to be supported. I like the title too much like that to change it to something else.

And yes, I have started another long fic (expect a novel). This one will update far more regularly I'm sure though.

A threesome lies within. Beware of the kinks.

* * *

><p><strong>Best <strong>**Friends**** Forever**

"Quit making a ruckus out there will ya!" Gilbert snapped from the couch floating in the otherwise empty room. A rather manly whine drifted from the doorway. Gilbert didn't know how a whine could sound manly, but Francis managed it.

"Your couch isn't the only piece of furniture we have, Gil! This doorway…my god, this would be easier if I had some _help,_" the blonde continued to complain. His grunts drowned in a sea of thumps and scruffs. Gilbert watched Francis push from behind at a brown vanity set with white trim, its mirror taped up in bubble wrap. He raised an eyebrow as the object continued to catch on the slight raised edge of the doorway.

"Wow Francis. Your stuff is really pretty!" Antonio grinned as he walked up. The other two men turned to see him just as he blew the cute taxi driver a kiss. He picked up a battered brown travel case from the curb, his knapsack already slung across his back. Still grinning, he peeked into the U-haul truck. It was the small rentable kind and Francis jammed it full of all sorts of goodies. "Sure must be nice being rich."

"Yes, yes it is. But money isn't doing me much good right now. You're late." In retrospect, Francis should have tried pulling the vanity in from the front. He could carry the relatively small object fine except he couldn't fit it and himself through the doorway. Now he couldn't get past the piece of furniture to try dragging. Sighing at the thing in frustration, he placed his hands on his hips. In reality, he wasn't glaring at the furniture. His eyes were on a certain younger male lounging across the back of the couch—so far the only furniture to make it inside.

"Sorry! A friend called." Antonio dropped his luggage to aide Francis, not that it did much good. The front end still wouldn't lift over the ledge. The two grunted together and Gilbert offered a bright smile and thumbs up, not even blinking when Francis whispered murderous phrases in his direction. The vanity bumped into the white wood frame.

"Ah, ow! My finger!"

Once again, the piece of furniture righted itself in the middle of the doorway. "Gilbert, you useless bastard. Help out already! We promised to move in _together._" Blue eyes searched the lazy man's face. "Not just take in our own things. You promised."

Gilbert's smile twitched, going from smirkish, to falsely happy, to pouty in a span of three seconds. He blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Francis shot down his argument before he could even speak it and it still surprised him how after one year, someone could guess his next words so well. He wouldn't show it, but Francis made him feel a little guilty. Gilbert and Antonio didn't have a lot to chip in, but they all insisted on renting the house together. Francis currently footed most of the bill along with supplying furniture and cooking utensils (he was very picky about them after all).

Francis gestured behind him to the U-haul. "If you don't want my things, you can sleep on that couch and I'll take this all back." Of course, letting go with one hand caused the vanity to slip and Antonio flailed under the weight, barely saving the mirror from smashing into the wood frame.

"Francis!"

"Sorry…" he muttered as he replaced his hand.

Gilbert sighed as if in no hurry, but he crossed half the room before Antonio finished stabilizing the vanity. "Fine, fine. But only because you weaklings can't manage without my awesome self. If you beg me, I mi–"

"Gilbert!" two voices wailed.

He grabbed the front end and within seconds they pulled the thing inside and set it against a wall in the larger bedroom. Francis claimed that one beforehand, leaving the smaller, connected rooms to his friends.

"Well come on, there's more isn't there?" Gilbert exclaimed. He led the way outside, stifling a self-satisfied laugh as if he just won an award instead of moved a small piece of furniture. Francis and Antonio exchanged a look and came to the same thought. _What a fake noise. _But they were used to Gilbert stroking his ego and they let him because he couldn't function without it. They would always be there to knock him right off the ladder if he got too full of himself. Seeing Gilbert admire his arm muscles as he hopped into the truck's back, Francis thought he was getting dangerously close to that limit.

Not noticing the looks being thrown his way, Gilbert moved to the largest piece and hefted it over the edge into the waiting hands. He may not have looked it, but the man could lift his weight and then some. All three stood about the same height, Francis being the tallest by a smidge. As the oldest and manly bearded one, he looked like the strongest at first glance. Though lanky, he had broad shoulders and visible muscle. Compared to Francis, Gilbert was pale and slight. Young too, though he managed not to look it with his sharp face that few saw soften. The physical strength didn't match his body or personality at all. Antonio wanted to ask his secret.

With Francis and Gilbert on opposite sides and Antonio helping where needed, even the heaviest pieces were no match. An hour later, they finished the two loads it took. The house remained sparsely furnished since the rest was up to Antonio and Gilbert and a later shopping date, but it felt real now. Truly theirs. Beds, two dressers, a kitchen and small coffee table, plus a few other boxes finished everything.

Francis closed the door and they blinked at each other. A one second moment full of childish grins and shared air, then they fell strewn across the room. Gilbert landed on the couch again, this time on his stomach, arms hanging over the side. He smiled with real happiness. "Isn't it great to do things with your own hands?"

Francis looked at him in bafflement from the rolled up rug he lay against. He started to shake his head no, but Antonio butted in first. "Why _were _we moving the furniture ourselves? You couldn't hire some people?"

A surprisingly smart question. Eyes turned to the brunette now sitting on the floor, rubbing his arms. Antonio wasn't complaining really. He shared Gilbert's sentiment that handmade craft and hard work meant more, but it was siesta time and he didn't plan to move truck-loads of furniture during it. He could be strong some time later when it mattered. At least he had the others to help. Moving by himself would be no fun at all. This was strangely fun.

Francis grinned nervously, pulling a hand through his long waves to free them from a ponytail. "…This was the best I could get so short notice. My parent's don't spoil me as much as you think."

Antonio patted the other man on the shoulder, his look understanding. "There, there…I understand. It's all Gilbert's fault."

"W-what? Why me!?" Gilbert yelped. He balled up his fist but realized they both sat out of reach and he didn't want to move. Instead, he crossed his arms with eyes narrowed in a glare. Odd-toned reddish slits, like something demonic, had a way of persuading.

"Because you waited until the last minute to finish the paperwork," Francis sighed, not batting an eyelash. He was too tired to yell and instead stared up at the ceiling. If he unfocused his eyes enough, he could almost imagine a crystal chandelier hanging in the center instead of a drab brown fan. Was it possible to convince his parents chandeliers were essential? "I knew I shouldn't have entrusted it to you." Gilbert stayed in the little college town over break though, unlike his friends. Despite not applying himself often, he had a neat, orderly way that got the necessary things done on time. If nothing else.

"Whatever, I got it done didn't I?"

"Si…" The Spanish word drifted off. The fact Antonio slipped into Spanish at all turned their heads.

"Did you…fall asleep Toni?"

No response. Francis turned back to Gilbert and tsked, smiling despite trying to look exasperated. Gilbert chuckled back. "We might as well take a nap too. That retard isn't going to wake up until he's hungry. Late lunch sound good?"

"Hm," Francis hummed in agreement. "But share the couch will you? I can't sleep on the floor!" He offered his hand to Gilbert. The younger man sneered, but finally grabbed Francis' hand and yanked him onto the greying navy cushions.

"Whatever, just–" As if on cue, Francis inched toward him, one hand nearly around Gilbert's waist before he swatted it away. "Keep your hands to yourself! No cuddling. You get that cushion and if your hands cross over to my side, I'll cut them off. Got it?" the smaller man snarled.

"Stingy!" Francis pouted and rubbed his hand as if the swat injured him deeply. "How skinny do you think I am? I deserve more than one corner!" He tried to scoot over more, but Gilbert jabbed a foot in his side to keep his two cushions to himself.

Gilbert closed his eyes and sat half curled on the seat with one leg still on the floor and his head pillowed on the armrest. "My couch…" he muttered, already feeling himself drift off.

Finally Francis huffed and gave up, crossing his arms and resting his head back on the couch top. He breathed in deep to relax his body. "Smells funny."

Gilbert's foot connected with his side one more time before the two settled into sleep. They shifted somewhere in their unconsciousness until Francis toppled over Gilbert whose torso lay stomach down, lower body twisted the other way, and knees bent over the arm rest. Their heads met in the center cushion, not that either noticed. Antonio didn't plan to tell them either.


	2. Chapter 2

"Gilbert! Gil you have to wake up!" Francis pounded on the other's door. It was eight in the morning and he did not want to be awake. He shouldn't have been considering his Monday class started at 10:30. Unfortunately, someone's alarm filled the house with some kind of vile German metal. "If you're late to class, you can't use my shoulder to cry on. No…that's not the problem," he chided himself. "If you're going to skip on the first day, at least turn your alarm off!"

A muffled, groaning growl answered him. Francis dragged in a deep breath, ready to unleash it on his sleeping friend. Right then, Antonio walked out of the bathroom, yawning and running a hand through his messy, wet curls. Other than a pair of hip hugging dark jeans, he wore nothing. A red towel hung over his neck and a lone drop of water twisted down his tanned torso.

"Hm? What's wrong, Francis?" Antonio asked. He raised his hand as if to yawn again, but after an expectant second, he lowered it and smiled instead. His green eyes fixed on the closed door and he nodded once. Antonio may have loved mornings and woke up at this hour for himself, but he knew neither of his roommates enjoyed them. Gilbert especially struggled to pass classes. Multiple reasons were at fault with that kid, but at least a few of them stemmed from an allergy to mornings. "Oh Gil…whatever are we going to do with you?"

Francis sighed and banged his fist on the door when the alarm started up again. "The worst part? He locked the door! Otherwise, I'd drag him out and toss him to the doorstep as is," Francis said as if to Antonio, but he raised his voice loud enough to be heard through the door. The resulting squeak informed them Gilbert got the message. Francis chuckled under his breath. Gilbert cared too much about his image, even compared to Francis. He didn't need to squeak like a girl whose skirt just lifted in a breeze because of this. Or did Gilbert sleep in just his boxers? Images danced through Francis' mind. The pale youth tangled in his dark sheets, white hair haloed on the pillow. His thin legs parted slightly to reveal snug black shorts that accented what lay beneath. Maybe he slept in nothing at all. Francis flushed and swallowed back the drool trying to leak out. He blinked multiple times to find Antonio staring expressionlessly at him.

"Pervert." Gilbert probably did the smart thing locking his door considering Francis' growing desire to jump him some unexpected morning. Antonio waved this off though and a second later smiled like his usual helpful self. "If you want in, he didn't lock the connecting doors from his side."

"The details you notice astound me. You weren't planning anything were you?" Francis muttered with widened eyes.

"Me? Oh no…I'll leave the planning to you. You're much better at it, but make sure to let me know when you do," Antonio grinned, his normally unfocused eyes sharp and full of something unreadable. Francis grinned back, nodding that he understood. Antonio flashed another smile. "Because I really want to see how you look without fingers!"

Francis' face twisted. "You brat!" He reached for the towel around Antonio's neck just as the door cracked open. Both men turned in confusion before a voice exploded through the small opening.

"Damn Dummkopf! Stop being so loud!" Gilbert's phone flew through the crack and into Francis' head. He tripped back, hand flying to cover the stinging pain. He shot Gilbert a wounded look, but it fell short of useful when he tried to slam the door closed again. Francis reached out and grabbed it last second. "Oh no you don't! You're getting up and going to school if I have to drag you to class myself!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

Francis huffed, a look of pride crossing over his face. "I most definitely would."

Antonio shook his head and unwound his towel from where it choked his neck. Crouching, he snatched up Gilbert's phone. He switched off the alarm, then moving his attention to the photo albums unsurprisingly filled with selfies. Almost as many were of a muscular blonde he knew to be Gilbert's little brother, Ludwig. And then, there were the pictures of Germany taken out a plane window and at least a dozen pictures of his bird. Antonio sent the most embarrassing selfies to himself as his two friends continued to fight.

Gilbert finally got the door closed all the way and for half a minute, he stayed silent in the dark. Francis fumed on the other side, busy nursing his sore head and trying to reattach a handful of hair strands. He gathered his voice for another bout of yelling, but Gilbert cracked the door open.

"Make me pancakes?" He always made Ludwig pancakes before school, so what if he wanted someone to treat him now?

Francis stayed silent for a bit, his eyes searching the ghostly face standing out in the dark. Antonio stared up at them and the two met eyes before Francis shrugged. "Give me fifteen minutes. When's your class?" he started as he drifted toward the kitchen. Gilbert followed after as if they hadn't been fighting a minute earlier. Antonio smiled when he saw Gilbert wore a childish blue pajama set with duckies all over the pants and a big duck with a crown on the front.

"It starts at 9:30. I'm gonna go shower."

"Just one question!" Francis called before Gilbert slipped too far away. "Strawberries or no?"

Gilbert grinned. "Blueberries."

xx

"Sometimes I feel like a parent," Francis sighed. Antonio looked up from his omelet, fork half way to his mouth. Gilbert already whirled in and out of the kitchen, the pancakes folded into a plastic bag with powdered sugar instead of syrup. Just like asked, Francis mixed blueberries into the batter as well as scattered a few on top, though he grumbled the entire way. Gilbert spent thirty minutes in the bathroom fixing his hair into a state that still looked like his pet nested in it and his jacket sported a price-tag. He forgot the textbook he carried with him to the table and Antonio rested his breakfast plate on top of it. "I have a hard time believing he's an older brother."

Antonio swallowed his bite down with a gulp of orange juice. "Really? Have you seen how many pictures of Ludwig he has on his phone?" He saw the older-brotherness in small moments when Gilbert didn't think anyone watched or in the drunken gushing. He missed home. He missed _Ludwig. _

Francis chuckled. "That has something to do with being brothers? How many pictures do you have of Lovino still?" he asked. Antonio's eyes hardened. With practiced ease, he set his fork down with a faint plink. Francis glanced over. "Was that bad? Just…I thought you two still talked."

It took Antonio nearly a full minute to respond. In that time, his face remained blank. Then he broke out in a bright smile, voice pitching high as he waved a hand in excitement. "I'm sure we are. He hasn't answered my last three calls, but Feli says he's busy with school. Senior year is coming up for them. Heh, remember how it was for us? Toughest days of our lives!" He laughed because there was never a moment Antonio couldn't laugh. When he looked down at his half eaten, artfully created omelet though, his stomach churned. He should have made oatmeal after all.

"Sorry," Francis sighed.

Antonio just continued to smile as if his eyes weren't dull and his fists forgottenly clenched. "It's to be expected after…everything that's happened. You can't blame him for it." Antonio fully believed that, no matter how bad it hurt. Lovino was never to blame. Antonio didn't know who to blame though. Not himself, or his family, just…people. They turned stories into fantasies spun from spider webs, hungry for a catch. If Lovino thought the same lies about him that everyone else in the city did, Antonio wouldn't be able to smile. He prized his smile more than anything else so he didn't want to lose it. Who else would cheer up his friends and the sad drunks he sometimes met in bars, flirting with, but really just sharing sunshine? It would be wrong if the world stole his sunshine too.

Francis brushed a hand along Antonio's shoulder as the brunette pushed back his chair. "Are you sure you're okay?" The problem with Antonio's smile was no matter how long Francis knew him, he still struggled to tell the difference between the real and fake ones. Did he get over his ghosts easily or just shove them under the surface? Both happened just as often, but not often enough for Francis to understand. Antonio of a thousand emotions and one face. They should write a poem about him. And he just nodded his head and flitted out of the room. Francis sighed and finished his breakfast.

By the time the older male reappeared to get his day started, the usual atmosphere of the home returned. Antonio lay across the couch with his laptop and a book sprawled on top of him, one earbud hanging from his right ear. He glanced at Francis then started waggling his eyebrows. "Do you have a date tonight?"

Francis scoffed and didn't bother trying to understand how Antonio figured that out so quick. The younger man's eyes tilted down to his shoes and Francis stifled a laugh, palm hitting his face. "You never cease to amaze me." Of course he wore his fancy shoes. His classes ran until the time he planned to meet a rather magical blonde by the name of Clarine, so he packed a change of clothes. The shoes proved too bulky though so he planned to wear them all day and maybe, just maybe he spent extra time on his hair.

Antonio continued to chuckle as he waved Francis off like a parent to his kid, as if Francis weren't the older of the two. "Have fun! Don't let this one slap you!" The glare passed over him uselessly.

"Don't worry, I learned to tell them from the start that my heart's taken." The door slammed shut after Francis. Antonio rested until he heard his car leave the driveway, then he stretched out and stared back at his computer screen. While his friends struggled with their first day of the new semester, he did his own job research. He couldn't work at the grocery mart for the rest of his life. He just needed a little more money so he could chase his dreams. And then when Gilbert came home, they could go to the store and buy some plants. Start a garden; start a new green life. Antonio let out a blissful sigh. It's what they were all looking for.

xx

Gilbert stared at the auditorium ceiling, wondering if he could launch a pencil high enough to get stuck in the rafters. Thoughts about pencil mass and velocity and exerted force flicked through his mind. Calculations that weren't quite calculations, but rather instinct came naturally to him. His eyes narrowed as he pulled his arm back. At the last second, his smirk fell and he dropped his pencil back to the little swivel table that came out of his padded chair. He only brought one pencil today and he needed it for his English Comp class after this lecture from snooze-ville.

Finally the professor flicked off the last slide of irrelevant American crap and released the class. If not for culturally enriching classes being a core requirement and Gilbert still an undecided major, he would never take the class. At least the first day finished without him committing a crime. Only an entire semester left.

Since he sat in one of the last rows, Gilbert made it out the door before the swelling crowd behind him. The floor length windows shocked his eyes after so long in dark. He cursed, snapping a pair of sunglasses down from their place on top of his head. Fellow students glanced at him with interest and distaste in their eyes. He earned looks everywhere he went being the only pure white god of albinism in the school. If he had to wear sunglasses inside to save his eyes some pain, then he'd flaunt it. Gilbert grinned with all the self-satisfaction of a king and strutted over to a bench. He flopped onto his back and basked in the shade. A few seconds later, the shadows darkened and he flung his eyes open again, body tensing. An unfamiliar face looked down at him, but he recognized the ponytail. He rolled his eyes at it not ten minutes ago. The owner sat three seats over in the auditorium and Gilbert now had the chance to appreciate his height.

"I heard about a German kid with white hair from my girlfriend. They say you have red eyes too," the guy snickered. Two others paused to watch the scene. Gilbert still lounged, but his every muscle coiled as his face split in a slow grin. Ponytail spoke like a typical bully of all talk, no bite. Gilbert imagined his girlfriend bossing him around in the bedroom. The guy was curious and trying to sound intimidating to hide it. Gilbert could read that all in the time it took him to exhale. He would give the audience just what they came for.

He tipped his sunglasses down despite the glare coming straight ahead from a window. Gilbert didn't blink, just stared the guy right in the face. "These are the bonafide eyes of a demon. Stare into them and die," he growled.

"No shit!" Ponytail exclaimed. "You wear contacts right? There's no way!"

_Dude, I__'__m albino. _Gilbert would have rolled his eyes if not busy weaving a spell. _I burn in the sun like alcohol under a match and my eyes scream with problem after problem. What__'__s special about that? _But he kept quiet. He smirked even as his eyes watered. "Why do you think I have to wear sunglasses?" Oh the uneducated masses. A few more onlookers hovered now and Ponytail shifted nervously. He grinned, but it kept twitching. With a slightly crooked finger, Gilbert pointed at Ponytail. He touched the tip of the finger to his forehead and said, "Die."

Ponytail flailed back. "W-what the hell dude?! Freak!" He got out of there fast, throwing a third finger over his shoulder. It did nothing to muffle the snickers now thrown at him. Gilbert pushed his sunglasses back into place and waited for the crowd to disperse. When it did, he spun toward the wall and screamed silently into his hands. Tears pricked at the corners of his stinging eyes. _Evil sunlight! God, my eyes aren__'__t even all red! _Not enough people looked close though to see such details. He supposed the amount of blue in his eyes didn't stop them from reading as red though. Red eyed albinos were supposed to be a myth, but Gilbert had a way of being special. As he settled back onto his bench, he remembered pulling the same rouse with Francis and Antonio the first day they met. He lay there as the memory washed over him with a gentle sweep.

_Music thumped through the smokey, half-lit air. Sweat and alcohol created a familiar reek that even a foreigner with no friends could relax into. No matter what country, a club was a club. Getting drunk was getting drunk. Gilbert had a mass of bodies around him, girls, boys, and one that might have been a transvestite. He didn't look close enough at the face to tell. Leather upholstery pressed against the stripe of skin at his lower back between the black skinny jeans he wore and the graphic tee bunched up around his toned stomach. He sat in the middle of a booth filled with college students and more arrived with each passing second._

_"Mon ami's, what kind of party is this?" A man with long blonde waves called as he waltzed in. A tan brunette waved from a step behind. "Everyone's sitting. Dance! And someone order a bottle of wine." These two newcomers were all it took to throw everyone into a true clubbing__mood. People danced and drank. Gilbert did a real sexy number with the girl who invited him to the party. She whirled away before long though and he didn__'__t mind. He didn__'__t remember her name. _

_Finally, the heat got to be too much and Gilbert collapsed to the booth again. He pressed a cold beer to his cheek, letting his eyes shut as his head fell against the upholstery. For seconds, all he heard was his blood in his ears. Then conversation drifted over to him. Gilbert's eyes cracked open. Them? Two familiar figures occupied the opposite side of the booth, huddled together though they were the only others sitting. Gilbert huffed. Go figure. They were the most dead set on dancing the night away and here they were chatting and sipping wine like sophisticated gentleman instead of college students. Gilbert couldn't help but eavesdrop._

_"No, the one in the purple sequined dress is hotter. I can spot a pair of perfect breasts from across a room, even in a badly fit dress,__" __the blonde nodded._

_The other hummed, maybe in agreement or in disagreement. Gilbert couldn't tell. "The guy she's dancing with has better hair."_

_ Low laughter. __"__I'll give you that.__" __The blonde raised his glass to point at a couple by the bar. __"__I__'__ll bet you ten bucks Madison goes home with Kyle. He__'__s been chasing her for a month and he__'__s finally gonna get lucky!__"_

_ Gilbert flipped his head to the side and found the couple the other two watched. Madison straddled a young man__'__s lap whose attention focused entirely on her. She looked to be a seven in hotness, but Kyle could be a nine with a little more height. She made up for her lack in looks by flaunting herself with tasteful clothes and even more tasteful body movements. Every tilt of her head sent that silken black hair sliding across a boney shoulder and she twisted her torso like a model. When she leaned forward against his chest, hands in his hair as she licked her lips, Gilbert decided she was an eight after all. Still, she wasted her gestures. Kyle couldn__'__t see them and she couldn__'__t see his face with how far she leaned over his shoulder. The motion didn__'__t match someone who looked as experienced at seducing as she. Even the curly-haired, freckle boy on the next stool didn__'__t look at her. Gilbert__'__s eyes narrowed. _

_ "__I__'__ll bet you twenty she doesn__'__t,__" __he cut in, eyes still on the bar. The pair opposite him silenced and he tilted his eyes over to them. Because of the strobe lights and flashing throb of color, he wore sunglasses even in this dim room. It made distinguishing much about the other two difficult, but they looked surprised. Finally, the brunette__'__s face broke out in a smile that made Gilbert__'__s sunglasses feel useless. _

_ "__I__'__ll take you up on that!__" __He thrust out his hand to make the deal official and Gilbert shook it. The blonde pondered a second before declining to take part in the bet. Five minutes later, Freckle-boy caught Madison__'__s eye and sparks flew bright enough for them to see half way across the room. They quickly looked away. She excused herself first when Kyle asked if she wanted another drink. Freckle-boy slipped out after, using the same door to the club__'__s back._

_ Gilbert grinned at his companions who stared back in shock. __"__Amazing! How__'__d you know?__" __The blonde asked. His friend grumbled, but forked over the money which was more than Gilbert expected. He shrugged and explained._

_ "__When you__'__ve got a hot guy like that under you, you pay attention. She was watching the guy next to him. Obviously she knew he wanted her and used him to get near his friend.__" _

_ "__Very impressive. I__'__m Francis and this here__'__s Antonio. You?__"_

_ "__Gilbert. Nice to meet ya and__…__thanks for the money,__" __he smirked._

_ Antonio just beckoned him with a hand, still grinning. __"__No prob. Slide on over here. We could use an extra set of eyes. Now__…__about that lonely Kyle. How much do you want to bet I can seduce him into my bed?__" _

_ Money flew down on the table and the three laughed together as if they did this every night. Antonio did in fact go home with Kyle despite Francis__' __insistence until the end that he was straight. Francis nabbed a girl with a blonde bob cut and bright eyes. Gilbert danced until he passed out on the dance floor and stayed hungover until after he missed his Monday classes. And he just laughed__—__even when his new friends teased him later about saying he had demon eyes and that when the full moon came out, he__'__d grow the one wing of a fallen and consume the souls of broken-hearted humans. Francis simply answered, __"__Good luck, but please eat Antonio first!__"_

Of course it wasn't until a week later that they really became friends. Gilbert learned Francis was in his final year of undergrad, unlike Gilbert in his first. Antonio was a drop out one year younger than Francis. Those two had a hell of a reputation around the school that made Gilbert instantly like them. The next weekend, they met at the same club and escaped to the roof for a smoke before darkness fell. Under the twilight glare, they played around like a couple of troublesome kids. Antonio begged to see his 'demon eyes' and stole his glasses. With Gilbert cursing his photosensitive eyes, tearing and suddenly self-conscious, the three shared a moment. The self proclaimed amazing demon turned out to be no less human than they. No less alone in a sea of attention. That moment bonded them together as best friends forever.

Out there on the roof, they realized they shared something more than a taste in alcohol and pretty faces. Something everyone else in the club couldn't understand. Those people invited them to their parties, back home to their beds, stole strawberry kisses and carefree laughs. But still the three stood alone because they were the lepers of society. They didn't know each other's story at the time, but their eyes said one existed. Instead, they laughed and Gilbert put his sunglasses back on. A cigarette toast sealed their promise for the rest of eternity.

_"__To never be alone.__"_

* * *

><p>(Yes, when you see random names, they are OCs. Mostly all in the background, but they will remain sprinkled throughout this story in various levels of importance. They aren't going away at all.)<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

After a busy week, the weekend brought the three together again. "My awesome friends, I've got the movies!" Gilbert yelled from next to the tv. Right on cue, Antonio pushed open the door and lifted three grocery bags into the air.

"And I've got the drinks!" He kicked the door closed behind him and smiled when Francis joined them in the room.

"Ah good, good. I've started dinner. Shall we open a bottle while we wait?" Francis wiped his hands on a towel before tossing it over his shoulder. The other two nodded, though Gilbert opened his mouth to add something in. "A bottle of beer for Gil and wine for us sophisticated people." Francis nodded to himself, feeling pleased to once again steal the words from his friend's mouth. Raising one eyebrow, he tilted his eyes to meet olive colored ones. "Antonio?"

"I'm on it!" The cheerful man hurried into the kitchen and rooted about for glasses in Francis' overly complicated cabinet organization. Some days, he just wanted to switch a glass here and a bowl there and let it grow natural like a garden. Shaking his head, Antonio snatched up the proper glasses and left the rest in their pristine rows like he always did. Francis of course had no idea the thoughts that went on behind his smile. "Let me help out with dinner too," Antonio begged as he tipped exact amounts of shiraz into their glasses. He popped open a beer and passed it to Gilbert who moved into the entryway.

The youngest of them sipped some of the amber liquid and his face broke into a smile. For a second, Antonio stared with his hand still holding the bottle cap. "My favorite kind! Thanks Toni, you're the best." Gilbert's strange colored eyes shone with the unbridled sort of happiness they rarely got to see. Sure he smiled, but not often so like a child. He did get a good sleep last night though. Antonio noticed those kinds of things. Gilbert blinked, then returned to normal. "Can I help cook too?" he asked, dragging Antonio out of his thoughts.

Francis whirled around from his cutting board and perfect round tomatoes. "Please don't. Antonio is more than enough help. We ah…appreciate the offer, but…" He blinked closed his eyes with a tight-lipped smile and charming tilt of his head. The half tied back waves of wheat blonde hair just added to the affect. Gilbert tried not to gag. Instead, he sent a glare that dared Francis to finish his sentence. The blonde looked away, obviously daunted enough. Unfortunately, one in the room was immune to all red-eyed glares.

"What he means is your cooking is fine. If it's things you know how to cook. Oh you're great at some things, Gilly, but you wouldn't be any help to us right now, kay?" Antonio burst out with a bright smile that didn't match his words at all.

Gilbert's eyes went wide and he sputtered for a few seconds before howling. "F-fine! I like being alone anyway. No one said I _liked _cooking!" A second later, the pale man stormed out of the room. The other two listened to his stomps which ended in a thunk and squeaking couch springs. Francis looked at Antonio, a strange expression on his face. He very nearly asked if Antonio knew how harsh he sounded or if he spoke with bluntness to be kind in some way. Francis found Gilbert's reaction amusing though so he just went with it. After all, when they solidified their friendship on that nameless club roof one year ago, they promised if any of them tried to get too much higher than the others that they would drive back to that club and shove him off the roof. Francis smiled at the memories from that haze of cigarette smoke and alcohol that made them who they were. This was their relationship, good or bad. Perhaps he should just call it balanced.

Gunshots burst from the living room and Francis jumped. _Call of Duty _Antonio mouthed before they turned back to cooking and the kitchen settled with an amicable air. The two cooks chatted as they passed ingredients between them. "Don't you think Gilbert seems happy today?" Francis started.

"Sí! So you noticed it too?" Antonio grinned. He thought he was the only one with his head in the clouds enough to observe the degrees of his friends' smiles. Francis just chuckled. He noticed it when he turned. The look only stayed there for a second before he and Gilbert started nagging, but what a look it had been. The two shared more arguments than Antonio did with either of them, but this too left a soft smile on Francis' face. He enjoyed every bicker and whine and he knew Gilbert did as well.

"What about you, Antonio? Are you happy?"

At that, Antonio threw back his head and laughed. Not the sort of laugh he often let loose, but something wild and not childish at all. "I've had more fun here than I've had in years," he admitted. "I knew we were meant to live together."

Francis hummed at that. "I was a little worried. Like we would get sick of each other. You know they say living with your best friends can be the surest way to break a friendship." He focused on the green onions he currently chopped. Maybe he said something more serious than he meant it to. He knew his friends had their bad points. He had his own and even though the three had been all together such a short time, he felt as if they knew each other their whole lives. Every fact and nuance of personality known. Of course that couldn't be true. Even Antonio whom he met ten years ago still had secrets lurking around in his brain. Half the day, Francis didn't understand him at all with his weird smiles and words that could be interpreted in ten different ways. German exchange student Gilbert with his flaky English could be understood better.

"Really?" Antonio asked in that bright voice of his. His arms snuck around Francis as he leaned against the other man's back, chin resting on his shoulder. "But we promised to be best friends forever. And you know how I feel about broken promises." Antonio smiled too brightly, his breath hot against Francis' ear. He shook his head and turned in the man's embrace to brush a hand along his jaw.

"Don't tempt big brother," Francis whispered before pressing a kiss to Antonio's cheek. The brunette just laughed and twisted his face to look scandalized. Francis rolled his eyes and let out a huff. "That's enough out of you! Normally a little wine wouldn't make you this horny," Francis chided without sounding the least bit bothered. He plucked the wineglass from the other's hand, then ducked out of his arms. Antonio let him go without a fuss. After setting down the glass, Francis picked up his knife again. Not that he got much work done when Antonio's hand grazed against his thigh on the way to recapture the wine glass. Francis jumped at the touch and watched Antonio sip with challenge in his eyes. Did he do that on purpose?

Antonio answered in his own way. "I'm not horny unless you want me to be. Can't a guy just hug a friend when his face gets too serious?" After a second, Francis realized how serious Antonio was on both parts. A horny Antonio could be one of the best things of any given day and it wouldn't be the first time the friends fooled around together. Since the day Antonio confided his sexuality they had their stolen moments, none more serious than the last. Francis didn't care about who he slept with, their age, or gender, as long as they were beautiful and few people had no beauty in his eyes. Antonio reached for him, but Francis pulled back at the last second.

"Now, now…Gilbert is in the next room. What would his face look like if he saw us fucking on the countertop?"

"Cute?" Antonio tilted his head, smiling.

Francis chuckled at that and swatted Antonio's butt with his towel. That _would _be true, but he'd rather not play with fire until they had far more to drink. Normally the insane stunts waited until they couldn't draw a straight line, let alone walk on it. "And you call me the perv…" he muttered. "Now will you please chop these olives? Food is the most important!"

"Okay!" Antonio sounded no less excited about cooking than the prospect of sex and Francis knew him well enough to accept this as total truth. Same as Francis, Antonio viewed sleeping with him as a momentary pleasure. They could be no less scorned by a lost moment than missing the latest soap.

An hour later, the three men lounged on the couch, hollering at a movie. "That's fucking impossible!" Gilbert yelled as the hero jumped an extraordinary length between two buildings.

"He's a super hero!" Antonio whined right back and wrapped his arms around Gilbert's neck, nearly choking him and spilling his drink at the same time. They'd moved on to a Chardonay at this point for Francis' sake. He himself lay across the entire couch length with Antonio perched on his legs. Gilbert sat on the floor between Antonio's, a pack's worth of empty bottles littering the floor around him. The line between pleasantly tipsy and drunk wavered for all three.

Gilbert burst out laughing and reached back to smack Antonio's leg multiple times. "Omg, did you see that? He totally did it! I can't believe he did it!" He kept beating his friend's leg as he pointed to the tv.

"Ah! No, stop!" Antonio whined and not even Francis sneaking a hand into his back pocket could stop him from flailing forward to swipe at Gilbert. He moved too fast though and finally tipped the contents of his glass onto Gilbert's head. He blinked for a second as the room stilled. Even the tv's screaming dulled as Antonio put on his most sheepish grin, and he had many very effective levels of sheepish. "Oops?"

Gilbert exploded into action. "Toni!" He grabbed Antonio and a second later, the brunette went flying through the air and landed in front of Gilbert. "Arrg! Now I smell horrible!" He hissed and jumped on top of Antonio as if to attack him, but a bit of wine dripped down onto his lip. Gilbert's face twisted into one of horror. A sniffle escaped before he wailed, hands in his hair as he knelt over his friend's legs. Antonio's hands slipped up to hold onto Gilbert's hips, though mostly because he half tipped over backwards. His pout affected the wailing man as much as his hands did—Antonio guessed he didn't notice them at all.

"Ooh hoo…what's this? I heard little Gil hated wine, but this is impressive," Francis chuckled. He watched their little show, content to stay on the sidelines until now. Wine made him lazy and satisfied and the movie made him sleepy. Gilbert always picked such silly things to watch. Now Francis slid to the floor behind Gilbert, wrapping his arms around him. Gilbert sunk into them, though that might have been because the person he sat on started began shifting. Francis locked eyes with Antonio and a slow smile spread across his face. "Toni, I have an idea…"

"Oh? Is it a good one?" Antonio smiled. Francis nodded. The idea couldn't be better. So good in fact, he wondered why he never tried it before. Oh right, because he liked his hands and other precious body parts attached to him. Glancing at the inebriated state of his friends, Francis decided it would work today.

Normally Antonio remained the soberest in the room. At this point, Francis couldn't tell if that rung true today as well. Antonio often had moments of drunken behavior followed with sober speech, which made others doubt his real level of drunkenness. In fact, Francis only once saw Antonio what he would call honest-to-god sloshed and he never wanted to repeat that day. The cheerful brunette had a way of staying just tipsy. Maybe today Francis just didn't feel tipsy enough. Though the way Gilbert slipped—or more of flopped—away from him and raced to find a bottle with liquid in it perfectly illustrated his usual drinking habits. Never just tipsy by the night's end.

"Need some beer!" Gilbert growled. He needed to get the vile wine taste off his lips, but every bottle he pressed to them turned up empty. "Why is the beer always gone?" And he thought himself very clever for quoting Jack Sparrow. He didn't notice Francis and Antonio trading grins behind his back. Whatever they talked about bore no importance on him, not when beer was to be had.

"Now!"

Gilbert turned then, a hum of confusion passing over his lips. His hum turned into a strangled yelp as Antonio grabbed his arms from behind and Francis pinned his legs with one hand. He held up a new bottle of wine with the other. "We're going to teach you to finally appreciate wine, so prepare yourself," Francis murmured as he climbed up Gilbert's body, blue eyes glinting with hunger.

"Huh, what? You can't be-" Francis shoved the bottle against his protesting mouth and silenced him. Gilbert spluttered, nearly got his arms free before Antonio pulled him flush against his chest, then choked on the bitter-sweet wine taste. Francis lifted the bottle away before he gathered his wits. Gilbert coughed as white rivulets rolled out the corners of his mouth. His head dropped back against Antonio as the world spun. He felt too short on breath and so hot. A heavy flush painted his cheeks. "…N-no more."

Francis' eyes went wide at the sight. Gilbert's chest rose and fell with the struggle to draw in breath and his eyes held an unfamiliar glaze. Behind them, a car exploded and Gilbert coughed one last time. He freed himself to wipe the wine trail away. "Shit. What the hell is that?" Silence greeted him. Silence and white-toothed smiles. "Um guys? You're starting to scare me." Gilbert attempted to roll to his knees, but the floor shot up toward the ceiling and he fell forward onto his hands with a groan. This was…this was not normal. He knew what drunk felt like. This was like bad drugs or vodka. With new vengeance he thought '_I hate wine__'__._

Antonio moved to Gilbert's side again and rolled him onto his back, head in his lap. It wouldn't be good to try wandering around in this state. Francis meanwhile stayed rooted to his spot, heart thudding right out of chest and mind blank. Suddenly, he dived forward and shoved the bottle into Antonio's hands. "Quick! More wine _now_!" Francis very nearly hyperventilated with excitement. "I…oh damn, where's my phone? We need to commemorate this moment for eternity. A new drunk Gilbert side!"

Indeed, neither saw their young friend like this before. Normally Gilbert got louder, wilder, stupider. He jumped on top of tables and waved his shirt around like a flag as he sang the German national anthem. No, he did not lose his cocky grin, only to replace it with pants and flushed cheeks. Francis wanted to eat him up even if he had to live as a fingerless man for the rest of his life. The memories would make the horror worth it. After locating his phone and returning their space in front of the sofa, he snapped a picture of Gilbert lying pliant as Antonio tipped wine into his mouth. He looked almost submissive. Francis didn't know Gilbert could look that way.

Blood ran straight to his lower regions. "Give that wine here," Francis grunted. Antonio tilted his head in question, but handed it over.

"Are you planning things again?" he asked as he took the phone and shifted Gilbert at Francis' prompting. They soon had him straddling Francis' lap with Antonio behind the blonde to hold Gilbert's hands and taunt him with the camera. Gilbert still struggled some, but they were weak attempts compared to his usual strength. Most days he couldn't be held down without the other two teaming up. Francis took a swig from the bottle before fixing Gilbert with a determined stare. Red eyes widened with understanding.

"N-no way! Please no more wine!" Anything to keep the last shreds of control together. He couldn't lose them, not even in front of his closest friends—the only real friends he'd ever had. Francis gently tilted his chin and pressed lips to his, but Gilbert refused to open his mouth. Antonio licked a stripe across his palm, earning a moan. The mouthful of wine slipped in, then down his convulsing throat. Antonio pressed the next mouthful to his lips. _No more. He couldn__'__t take any more of this. _Francis stared with his smokey eyes and then Gilbert lost it. When Francis passed another mouthful to him, he gulped it down greedily. He brought a hand up to tangle in the blonde hair as he thrust his tongue into Francis' mouth. The moan humming against their tongues sent Gilbert's body shuddering. Francis' moan or his, it didn't matter. Despite opening his eyes again, they stayed glazed and half-lidded in white lashes, his face lax. A face belonging to another person.

"More." Gilbert rutted against Francis' pelvis. "I need more."

For a second, his companions just stared at him. Gilbert with eyes fluttering closed, paleness reddening almost everywhere they could see skin, rocked forward and opened his mouth in a silent keen. "Gilbert?" Francis felt the need to make sure because a changeling must have jumped out of the movie and possessed the albino on top of him. Those eyes shone like ruby stones as the snowy eyelids parted again. After a second, a normal expression of haughtiness and impatience passed over Gilbert's face.

"What's the hold up? You don't want to tap this?" he snapped, albeit with a slur. His hand caressed his jean clad bottom to inform just what 'this' was. Francis licked his lips. Antonio nudged him and whispered in his ear.

"Take the invitation!" It would be worth seeing no matter the result.

When sober, Francis had a rule against sleeping with drunks. Somehow the rule sounded so much less practical with his own head swimming in wine. And this was _Gilbert. _Like Antonio said, this sort of invitation came only once in a lifetime. His hands dropped onto Gilbert's hips as he pressed the younger man firmly down against the bulge growing in his pants. "Yes of course, dear. I just thought your fine ass was off limits," Francis murmured as his pressed kisses to Gilbert's neck. He would have gone after it the day they met had he known. He even tried then. He tried every time Gilbert got drunk or when he bent over too tantalizingly, but only going as far as the other would allow, which wasn't much.

Gilbert threw back his head and laughed. "It is off limits! But…" he leaned down to whisper in Francis' ear. "I'll let you in on a secret. _Sometimes__…_it isn't!" Gilbert burst out as if he shared the most outrageous detail. The others' stunned faces got him laughing again. "What? You think this thing is a virgin?" He gave his butt a slap. "What kind of prude do you think I am? I've had men before! So…" He licked his lips. "Come at me, boys."

"Fuck!" Francis couldn't hold back anymore. He dropped his mouth over Gilbert's and ravished it as he slipped hands into his shirt. Antonio fell onto his side with a hand propping his head up, watching the show. Small mewling noises escaped Gilbert as Francis exposed more swathes of flushed skin. He thumbed a nipple which rewarded him another moan. Gilbert pulled his mouth away with a near scream.

"Hell yeah, that's it!" A second later, Gilbert dissolved into useless noises as Francis slipped his hands down to squeeze his ass. With each squeeze, his fingers gathered more flesh and moved inwards until Gilbert felt them brushing against his hole. His back arched and he had to grab hold of Francis' shoulders for balance. "Scheiße!" His head spun from the motion. He tightened his grip because if he let go of Francis he would surely fall to the floor or maybe the ceiling. Everything spun, dark and light, up, down. Gilbert buried his face against the other's neck as reason left. "Ich will dich." Hands pulled at his belt buckle and Gilbert felt himself melt toward oblivion, his voice spiraling ever downward. "…Sehr gut…Ooh, Ivan…!" The hoarse whisper died in his throat as his body went lax. The last thing he saw was the tattered edge of a mauve scarf before he fell into its warmth.

Francis blinked as the body slumped forward in his arms. At first he didn't understand, but Gilbert didn't respond to his touch and that fizzled down through his alcoholic haze. Francis wanted to cry. Antonio noticed his trembling shoulders, but hadn't reached the same conclusion. "Why'd you stop?"

"…He fell asleep."

Antonio burst out laughing. "Aw, poor Francy. And he even called out another's name," he cooed despite shifting his own legs uncomfortably. "Shall Toni offer you a hand?" With that, Antonio slipped one hand between Francis' legs and gave a little squeeze.

Francis shuddered and breathed out as he leaned back against the couch. "You know just the way to my heart." That got Antonio chuckling again. Francis rolled Gilbert onto his back and let his eyes linger as if to savor what could have been. Just as he turned back to Antonio busy wriggling out of his jeans, another idea struck Francis. "Not there." He grabbed Antonio's wrist and pulled him in front of Gilbert. Antonio glanced back, but understood without words. He got on all fours above their unconscious friend whose lips still lay parted and glistening.

"Someone needs to punish him for calling another name. No one compares me to other lovers!" And so, knowingly or not, he would be roped into their fucking. Plus, Francis couldn't get over that pliant, moaning Gilbert and he knew Antonio couldn't either. He reached down to rub Antonio's erection. "You enjoyed watching me play with him."

"Yes!" Antonio cried. "I want to see his face when I come!"

"Me too," Francis whispered. He leaned down over the other man's back so he could feel Antonio body and see Gilbert's face. It struck him how wonderful these two together were, even if it only lasted a night. "Then I'll have to make you come."

xXx

Gilbert groaned and squeezed his eyes shut as if that could expel his headache. He felt like someone used him as a punching bag. Forcing himself to breathe, he curled up tighter. Just another one of _those _nights, except, what did happen last night? After a minute, he forced his eyes open and what he saw made him scream.

"My eyes!" Gilbert wailed, all of his previous sluggishness forgotten as he tried to block out the scene with—were those Antonio's boxers? He flung away the unfortunate first thing he grabbed with another cry. Francis and Antonio sprawled out little more than a foot away, limbs tangled, and completely naked. Francis' junk up close and personal would be burned into his brain for all eternity. God, they had bedrooms! Did his friends have to do it practically on top of him? Gilbert looked down at himself. At least he still had his clothes. Shirt, pants, socks, the whole ensemble.

Just as he patted himself for assurance of this fact, Gilbert's brows furrowed. One hand rested over the front of his jeans. "…my button is undone…" White flakes came off his shirt, dusting his hand. It wasn't possible, was it? _Oh god. _Gilbert frantically inspected himself. Important bits still tucked away inside his boxers, hands clean, no twinges in his hips, ass, or anywhere else. Finally, he let his trembling hands relax. The relief that flooded him lasted only a second. No sex, but…Gilbert's eyes snapped back his friends with sudden fury and distrust because someone else's cum was on his shirt. He snatched up a couch pillow and swung.

"Perverted freaks! What did you do with me?! Perverts! Perverts!" Each scream fell with a strike from the pillow. Francis flailed and sputtered, his arms jumping up even before he understood the situation. The pillow hit him full in the face, smothering his attempts to speak. He caught only the sight of violet sparking eyes before Gilbert tossed the pillow on top of him and stormed out of the room.

The pillow slid down Francis' face into his lap and he just sat there blinking in a daze. "What the hell?" he croaked. His eyes widened and he raised a hand to rub his throat which felt coated in sand and salt. His head hurt too much for consciousness and certainly not Gilbert's impressive lungs. Why would he scream that loud at this early hour? Francis glanced over at Antonio, still asleep even after being dealt pillow blows. "Oh…that." He brushed oily strands of hair out of his face as he accessed the situation. He wondered if Gilbert remembered anything from last night. No, probably not since he asked what they did to him. Francis chuckled as a grin spread across his face. _Not as much as I would have liked._

He prodded Antonio a few times, but decided the other male wouldn't wake any time soon. Francis would deal with Gilbert later. Now, all he wanted was a shower. They fell asleep after doing it, not even bothering to wipe the mess away or cover themselves. It shouldn't have mattered anyway. Gilbert went home with men before and he sure wanted it when drunk and sometimes drunk Gilbert was the most honest. Him and Antonio finishing off the rest of the wine bottle by themselves may not have been smart, but not half as dumb as Gilbert thinking he could escape now. The secret was out. Gilbert didn't just top.

When Francis emerged from the shower, he found Gilbert in the kitchen. The young man stood over the counter, dressed comfortably and at ease. Francis moved softly so as not to startle him and eyed the food. Gilbert had a large dish which he liberally covered in cheese, salami and breads. Eggs boiled on the stove, far more than he could eat by himself. Francis opened his mouth to comment on how those were his cheeses and he bought that loaf for something, but he supposed that didn't really matter. Gilbert fetched something out of the cabinet corner he kept his personal foods. Strangely, he hummed as he set the jam jar on his platter. "It's strawberry. Your favorite right?" Francis startled, but nodded. He didn't think Gilbert noticed him.

The younger man shifted to the eggs after telling Francis to set the finished food on the table. Francis chuckled. He expected Gilbert to stay mad for the entire day. Mad? That was how it seemed, though he couldn't imagine why it turned out that way. Sure Gilbert woke up next to his friends in a post-sex state and Antonio still slept on the floor with a satisfied grin, but it wasn't that big of a deal. It's not like Gilbert didn't know he and Antonio had that kind of relationship. He even hooted at them when witness to a particularly hot make out session. Francis would have to drag the truth out of him. He took the tray and swept away with it. "Thank goodness. I was afraid you planned to eat this all by yourself." He knew Gilbert liked breakfast, but this was an impressive food spread.

Gilbert finally met his eye and it was then Francis noticed the pink tinge on his cheeks. "I just started grabbing food out of habit. I wasn't thinking." He paused, snapping the heat off with more force than necessary, then sighed. "But…what happened last night?"

"Well, for starters we got filthy drunk." Francis' chuckle danced across the room. He reached for the jam and tilted it to see the masking tape label, marking it as homemade. Gilbert grabbed a handful of cheese and devoured it, still pink in the face. _So cute. I just want to tease him. _"So, who's Ivan? I didn't know you had a man now."

Every muscle in Gilbert's body tensed. Eyes wide, his gaze darted up to meet blue eyes. Francis froze as the surprise he saw twisted with darkness. So many emotions passed by, good, bad, and terrifying to see on Gilbert's face that rarely expressed any of them. "Don't say his name." His growl served as a warning instead of a challenge. Francis just shook his head, confused.

"Why? I thought we didn't have secrets?" They never made a rule like that, but he lived by the philosophy himself. Francis bared his troubles. His friends could help even if help came in the form of teasing jokes and a free drink. The lack of seriousness soothed him, but Gilbert kept so much inside still. "Is he an unrequited love? Ex? Your favorite porn actor?" Francis couldn't quite get his smile to work. He kept pleading with his eyes though.

It seemed like Gilbert wilted. He brought the eggs to the table and collapsed into the cheap wooden chair. Francis perched on a stool, considering they had odd, unmatched furniture and only one chair. Gilbert sat with his head in his hand. He didn't eat despite having prepared a feast Francis found ridiculous. The out of character show bothered him. Francis reached over and patted Gilbert's hand. Their eyes met again and Gilbert shook his head. "He's a fucker I used to know is who. A bad memory, but that's it. _A memory._" He said that to convince himself, not Francis. Bringing up Ivan now shook him up, but he started it. Why? "God, I haven't even thought about him in the better part of a year. Seriously, what were we up to?" Gilbert sounded exasperated. He went out of his way to sound it and he really was, but also tense, afraid.

Francis observed him as he spoke, and then a minute after. He so badly wanted to pry, but Gilbert worked like the surface of water—a soft touch let you pass through, but punch it and you just hurt yourself. Any other time, Francis would find the metaphor amusing or possibly innuendo. "Well!" Gentle touch, don't push. "Did I mention we were really drunk and you…I've never seen you drunk like that, so don't get mad at us. You flipped like a switch and started getting all sexy on us. All moaning and lap dancing and sexy sounding German. You ah…moaned his name before passing out on me. It was _beyond _sexy and…me and Toni had to amuse ourselves in your absence." He chose not to mention exactly how he and Antonio decided to amuse themselves.

Gilbert stared at Francis like he couldn't believe himself. Which was impressive considering these were his own actions. Gilbert snapped his head away, brightening dark red, red as only someone with so little skin pigment could get. "I hate myself sometimes," he groaned in all his usual flare. "Forget it ever happened!"

"But why?!" Francis cried. "Now that we've crossed this line together, I think we should go forward. You don't shove rain back into the clouds! I didn't think you cared for my advances because you and me, we're alpha dogs-" Gilbert raised an eyebrow, making Francis nearly throw a baguette at him. He was a very alpha man most of the time! Tossing a wave of hair over his shoulder, he refused to answer the taunt. "I don't know why you never went after Toni, but that's not the point. You, Gilbert Beilschmidt, have a submissive side!" Francis exclaimed with a point of his finger. "So mon cher, do us all a favor and let me fuck you."

"I hate it when you speak French. Makes you sound more like a pompous poser than usual." Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Stop acting like you can say more than five words."

Francis gasped. "That's harsh! I can also ask you to take off your pants." Gilbert leveled him with a glare. Francis refused to be daunted by it though, just like he refused to be dragged off topic so blatantly. "You don't have to be embarrassed or ashamed. We're all friends here." Francis reached for him with what Gilbert dubbed 'pervy grabby hands'. Gilbert ducked them with a disgusted snort.

"That's the problem. We're friends."

Francis furrowed his brow. "That doesn't make sense. We already talk about our sexual conquests in graphic detail and you watch me and Toni without batting an eye. Now suddenly you're shy to share with us? That's a load of crap and you know it!" Shoving back his chair, Francis circled the round little table and leaned over Gilbert. Placing both hands on the seat edge, he caged the other man's body to whisper against his ear. "Unless you give me a good reason, I'm not gonna stop. Not today. Not tomorrow or in a month or a year. I'll pursue you and open you like a rose—petal," Hot fingers slid up his thighs. "By petal." A feral flash of teeth. "By petal."

Gilbert trembled under him, so faintly you needed to be as close as Francis to see. Breaths too fast, body too flushed. Francis crooned inside with victory even as he kept his smokey stare, until Gilbert broke it. He turned his head. The spell shattered and with it, Francis' victory. Gilbert looked no more like someone who won though, but rather like one forcing himself into a box. "You two are my best friends," he croaked. Francis pulled back. "I've never had friends like you. Hell, friends half as good as you. I _like _the balance we have. You don't understand, Francis!"

Hands grabbed desperately at the stunned blonde. "I don't want things to change. You and Toni aren't like me. The sort of lines you draw and don't draw. When I fool around, it's got to be a stranger. I just can't sleep with my friends!" Or else, Gilbert knew terrible things would happen. Things none of them were ready for and he couldn't risk their friendship falling apart.

One heart beat felt like too long in Francis' chest. He felt it with clarity, hurting in such a strange way. He recognized the hurt in his chest, but not the reason for it. His eyes slipped closed. This had nothing to do with matters of love. Of course Gilbert was important to him and those desperate eyes and tightly clasped hands didn't sit well with him either. Could friendship hurt his heart to this degree? _Yes, _his heart jumped to supply. Their friendship mattered more than anything. Francis nodded and tried not to feel insulted when Gilbert looked shocked.

"Okay." Francis pulled back and strode to the other side of the kitchen then halfway back. He ran a hand through his hair as he tried to compose his thoughts. "But why didn't you say so before? You're my best friend too and I don't think with my dick like everyone says," he snorted. "I'd stop putting you in this position if I knew. I mean, I'm not promising I won't forget and start groping your pretty ass out of instinct…" He couldn't change his nature after all. Didn't want to try.

Gilbert shrugged and snorted back in the same gesture. That was so like Francis. A pervert and a total gentleman. He liked to play big brother and protect the younger friends because it gave him self-satisfaction. For once, Gilbert didn't mind it. "I guess I didn't think I minded it much until now. I panicked when I thought we crossed the line when I wasn't in a state to stop myself. I dunno why it's bugging me, but whatever. Can't we just go back to what we were before? Grope my ass or whatever…not like I hate it," Gilbert muttered.

Francis smiled. Oh he smiled and nodded his head because he respected Gilbert. But he couldn't help but think he acted a little immature. You can't put rain back into clouds, just like he said. "I'll try." He could promise no more. Their relationship already changed no matter how hard they ignored it.

The atmosphere hesitated in awkwardness for another minute before Gilbert shook himself and blinked the haze out of his eyes. "Um, I'm not hungry anymore. You and Toni can eat it all. I-I have homework to do." With that, he exited at a walk too fast to be natural, but at least not a run. Francis looked after him with sad eyes until the bedroom door closed. He waited another minute before raising his voice.

"Did you get all of that?"

"…Yes." Antonio considered not responding, pretending to still be asleep. He rolled over so he could look into the kitchen. They shared a look, half serious, half exasperated. Drunken fun should never get this complicated and it never had until they met Gilbert and his drama, but still they put up with it. That damn friend got them promising forevers and living together and all sorts of things that the other two never guessed would be in their future. What else could they do but comply with his whims?

Francis sighed and Antonio said one of the most intelligent things he'd ever heard. "The cute ones are never easy."


	4. Chapter 4

Francis raided the cabinets with a yawn the next Tuesday morning. It took him three checks to be sure his local grown apples were missing. Because it really was that big of a deal, he inspected the trash. Indeed, apple cores. Someone else ate his precious, hand selected, and over-priced fruit. They had personal and joint cabinet space for a reason. Only one person would so disregard the rules like this. Francis pushed open the back door which stood slightly ajar. Antonio knelt in the dirt with gardening supplies scattered around him. By the looks of it, he started a little over an hour ago. "Did Gilbert already go to class? Unless you ate my breakfast."

Antonio put down the little hand shovel. When he wiped a bead of sweat off his face, he left a smudge of soil behind. He didn't wear gloves, preferring to feel the dirt with his fingers. Antonio shrugged, then nodded. "Yes. He got up before me." The two shared a look.

Francis sighed and ran a hand through his unbrushed hair. His irritation over the apples fell to the back seat. "This is troubling indeed." Gilbert turned into a responsible and punctual man—the person he was when not comfortable with others. He never once showed that face to his best friends. After a second more of silence, Francis tied back his hair and knelt down in the dirt with Antonio. "What are you planting?"

"Spinach and onions for now. I want to plant tomatoes and maybe strawberries too, but we don't have a lot of room," he explained, each with a point to his planned spaces and the seed packets. "The box garden will be for basil and thyme. We can keep it on the windowsill!" Antonio shoved his hands into the fresh dirt, laughing as it crumbled around him.

Francis nodded his head in appreciation. There was nothing like fresh herbs to a gourmet like him. "I've got some time yet. Let me help." For all that he came from money and splendor, he shared Antonio's love for the dirt. Gardening relaxed him in a way that little else could. They didn't speak as Antonio dug the holes and Francis filled them with seeds. Francis found himself drifting into his thoughts as he always did when gardening and judging by Antonio's face, he did the same.

An old groundsman taught Francis to love the art of growing. Raised around delicate breakable things, he molded himself into the sort without a wild youth. Trouble didn't suit him at all, not when he spent so much time preening on the compliments adults gave his looks and behavior. The only thing he missed were people to talk to who would really listen and not just nod their head. He'd found himself sitting on the doorstep and talking for hours about a child's delight in this or that to the kind old man. He had children so he just let Francis talk without a care. Just like the two gardening now, the groundsman gave the plants his real attention. It took time before Francis got over dirtying his hands and started gardening with the old man. A plant deserved to be treasured from seed to plate. Sometimes he wondered what it felt like to grow up on a farm like Antonio.

"Sorry, that's all I can do for today," Francis said as he finished off the spinach. He found it hard to drag himself away, but mother nature blessed him with a good internal clock. He didn't need an alarm to tell him the time to go. Rubbing his hands clean on a cloth, he ginned down at himself. "The museum opens at nine and I need to change again it seems. Anyway, I'll be out all day. At least until closing. I've got a project to start on."

Antonio grinned, less bright, but soft like a calm breeze. This lasted until he scratched his nose, inhaled a bit of dirt, and sneezed. Francis burst out laughing even after he received a muddy slap to his arm. "Don't laugh! You're the one with dirt on his eyebrow," Antonio huffed. Francis moaned in horror and nearly wiped his face until he realized how dirty his hands were. Antonio rubbed the speck away with his sleeve, tongue pressed to his lip in some sort of dorky show of concentration. "You've already got projects on the second week? I don't know how you guys do school."

"I am a grad student. Got to keep my grades up and my parents happy. No rest for the wicked as they say." Francis winked as he headed for the door.

"I thought you didn't get sleep because-"

"See you later, Toni!" Francis laughed as he danced back inside.

xXx

Francis didn't mind getting lost in the Los Angeles County Museum of Art at all. With Rembrandt and Cézanne at his side, how could he consider this work? He only felt awe to be in the presence of such masterpieces. It was the art historian in him talking, but also the romantic. Francis didn't have time to linger or visit the entirety of the museum though. He used the little handheld map to find the French oil paintings and circled the room. He held a notebook in his hands and by far wasn't the only student wandering around like this. In a city with a vibrant art culture like LA, students often visited the museums. Francis' studying focused around European art as he prepared himself for a massive mid-semester paper. Each in his class picked their own focus within the umbrella of Europe. Naturally he picked France, the country he wished he could do more than trace a vague linage to. If only he had been born in such a wondrous place! He could only satisfy himself with paintings.

Hours passed as pages in Francis' spiral turned. He tucked his erasure stick behind his ear, looking the picture of an art student. The museum kept an awed hush. Not silence which would be cloying, but filled with the whispered conversations of viewers. Any other time, Francis would lose himself in people watching. Now he noticed the existence of people in the farthest back of his mind. That was until a pencil skittered into his leg.

"Sorry, could you…?"

Francis turned to see a head of short blonde hair behind him. His response froze in his throat. Everything inside him tried to pull apart; he wanted to soar up and dash himself into the floor at the same time. Arthur's here? He finally came back! But when Francis blinked again, the face in front of him stood just a little too low and the smile wore lipstick. Her cheeks curved round and pink so unlike the ones Francis wanted to see. He stared at her silently because he thought he needed to remember something more than she looked like Arthur.

"Ah…that's right. You probably don't remember me," the girl chuckled. She tucked one golden strand behind her ear and her lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. "My name is Alissa. We met at a party, oh I dunno. A year ago? You were fun."

Francis never quite put together who she was, but he knew _what_ she was now. Just another girl and one that looked like his unrequited love at that. She must have been a moment of weakness. Still, she had a cute smile and the same dimples. Francis found himself smiling and lifting Alissa's hand to press a kiss to it. "Perhaps you just need to help me remember," he whispered with his blue eyes dancing.

Alissa giggled which set Francis on edge. Arthur would never giggle, but he ignored the discrepancy. She took her hand back before answering. "That would be wonderful. Actually…" She twisted the black strap of her bag before lifting her eyes to meet his again. By then her smile regained the confident and almost superior look of before. "That's why I approached you. Will you go for a second whirl with me?"

All over again Francis found himself drowning. Arthur…no she was Alissa. Why did they have similar names? Though at this point, he could have found Ramundo similar. The lie caught him up too deeply. She was Arthur, but a female and less hateful version. He could work with that even if her forwardness turned other men away. He gluttoned himself on this type of punishment. All the green eyes he loved looked down at him like this. He wouldn't be able to react to any other ones.

"My dear Alissa, I would never turn a pretty girl like you away. Green eyes are my weakness." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Perhaps I can take you out for dinner tonight?" She nodded and the two hashed out the details. Francis gained a new contact in his phone, not that he had many to begin with. As often as he gained them, he deleted them. The men and woman who breezed past his bed would clutter his phone otherwise. As he turned back to Landscape with Ruins by Pierre-Henri de Valenciennes, he wondered if this meeting counted as a fortunate turn of events or proof he was a masochist in matters of his heart.

xXx

Half and hour after dinner, Antonio knocked on Gilbert's door. A couple days ago, he added some sticker with a childish 'keep out' phrase and Antonio couldn't help but think the timing meant something, even if Gilbert had similar signs on his dorm room last year. "It's your turn to do the dishes." He listened for movement, heard it, then turned to go. Before he reached the hall, a voice yelled after him.

"Help me edit my English paper!"

A grin tilted over Antonio's face. He pushed open Gilbert's door and found him sitting on his bed, laptop open, and a German/English dictionary against his knee. He patted the deep blue sheets and Antonio plopped down with a bounce and giggle. Gilbert shifted, making sure to keep a space between them. He sat cross-legged in his favorite jacket, mis-matched with shorts and a tank-top. Maybe because he showed so much skin, he made sure to keep it to himself. Still, Antonio felt relief. This was the normal Gilbert who forgot his best friends had a taste in men. Antonio didn't realize how badly he missed the ease of conversation. He didn't expect it to ever leave.

"Are you sure you want a drop-out like me to help?" Antonio joked even as he pulled Gilbert's laptop closer. He carried the reputation of being an idiot after all. Not that he minded. He cultivated that image himself. When he felt a stare on him Antonio looked up.

Gilbert looked like he seriously considered his friend's intelligence, but he shrugged in the end. "At least English is your first language." Although he started learning English at age eight when he moved in with his aunt, uncle, and prissy cousin, he found this a solid excuse. Gilbert tossed his ridiculous plush panda across the room. "What do they expect out of me?! I should get special treatment for being German!" After five seconds more of pouting, he jumped up to fetch his panda, patting out the ruffled fur in apology.

Antonio just continued to scan through Gilbert's writing about a famous bird from some war named _Cher Ami_. What a morbid topic and Antonio doubted the teacher's prompt allowed for it. "Uh…The subject title says this is a personal essay." Gilbert shot him a glare. "What I mean is your grammar's a little off here and there, but ahaha, otherwise your English is fine! I don't get why you're complaining. I dunno, you can ask Francis later. He's better at this kind of stuff…"

"Where is that pantie drooler anyway?" Gilbert grumbled. He stayed in his room most of the time, but he noticed who was home and who was not. He noticed who cooked dinner and the lack of his annoying voice. Not that Gilbert missed it or anything. He just noticed these things.

When Gilbert's shoulders slumped and his pout deepened, Antonio patted his hand. "Not a clue. Didn't call so he probably fell into someone's pants. You know how he is. Ah?!" He looked at Gilbert in confusion when he jumped and snatched his hand back. For a second, they stared at each other, silent with their breaths held. Then Gilbert jumped off of the bed and walked to the middle of the room, then most of the way back before laughing.

"Yeah, I know he's an idiot with his head and his dick disconnected!" Gilbert snapped. He tried to make it sound like his usual callous joke, but his voice came out too tense. He sounded too irritated. If Gilbert couldn't play nice, then he needed to go—that's what he thought anyway before he moved to the door again. "I'll go do the dishes now. Finish fixing my paper."

Gilbert escaped to the hall, leaving Antonio baffled with his computer and the panda where he previously sat. "You don't have to act like we'll jump you!" Antonio yelled after him. Gilbert glanced back, then laughed in a strained, and irritatingly self-satisfied sort of way. He said something about 'awesome people never running' and then he was gone.

Gilbert did have to run though. He leaned heavily over the sink as he waited for the water to turn hot. He could still feel the burn of Antonio's hand against him and it left _other _images flashing in his mind. Less than a week passed since he said he wouldn't sleep with either of them and his memories must have a serious vendetta against him because all he saw were those two naked on the living room rug. It started with a thought: _"__I wonder what they__'__re like in bed?__"_

And now, he just had to know. He couldn't remember anything from that night, so he wondered how Francis might touch him. Would he taste like wine or perfume, or finely cooked foods? With shaky hands, Gilbert picked up a bowl and the sponge. A second later, he disappeared into his mind again. _I really want to stop thinking about this._ But he never did. An image of Antonio stretched out on his side, a lazy smile on his face, jumped to mind. Gilbert squeaked and nearly dropped a dish. That was it, he would make himself stop thinking. He just wasn't cleaning hard enough.

The dishes found themselves freed of their grime, then placed with perfect order in the washer. He wiped down the counter too, since he was there. He probably shouldn't have rearranged the condiments or moved the knife rack, but didn't it look better to the left of the sink? By the time Gilbert came back to himself, he'd cleaned the kitchen and half of the living room. When did that dust rag even get in his hand? He tossed it down and stomped back to his room. He took one look in there and started shrieking.

"Who said you could hug my panda of happiness!?" Antonio lay on his bed with the panda nestled in his arms and the laptop still open. He shook himself, then opened his eyes. Gilbert flew into the room, fists clenched, but Antonio didn't blink. He yawned and pulled himself upright with the panda in his lap.

"Oh sorry. I fell asleep. You have a lot of games on here, but they make me think too hard. Thinking makes me sleepy." He offered up the panda in time to have it snatched from his fingers. Gilbert made wringing motions with his free hand, but he couldn't strangle someone with that bright of a smile. He wanted to, but Antonio just looked too innocent. He probably smiled like that on purpose. Grumbling, Gilbert snapped his laptop shut and tucked it under an arm.

"Come on. Out of my room." He motioned to the door with his panda filled hand. Antonio pouted and got up. "If you want to sleep, do it on your bed. I've still got homework to do." Or procrastination and a little work. It amounted to the same thing since it would take him hours to finish. Antonio hesitated just inside the doorway.

"Are you going to lock yourself in here again?" He wouldn't leave if Gilbert said yes. Eyes narrowing, he sought the perfect words. "I thought you hated to be alone."

Gilbert choked on his air, doubling over and dislodging another stuffed animal from his bed. "W-what?! I love being alone. It's super fun! And…uh…I mean, if you want me around, then I guess I can be. I didn't know you missed me that much. Should have just said so."

Antonio rolled his eyes for Gilbert's benefit before he led the way to the living room. "I want to wait for Francis. You'll keep me company right?" He sat on the couch and pulled the blanket down to snuggle with. Gilbert hovered longer with his eyes flitting between bedroom and living room. He finally set his panda against the pillow and followed Antonio. He didn't take the other side of couch, but settled in a hand-carved rocking chair Antonio brought from home. Their furniture really did lack continuity.

The two settled down in silence with Gilbert typing and Antonio stretched out under the blanket. His presence and the soft silence warmed Gilbert, making him want to sleep. It's not like he meant to avoid his friends. It saddened him to think he might have to. If only this new problem would go away soon and then no one would have to avoid anyone. They'd be friends all over again. Only, Gilbert feared his interest wouldn't die down before he caved.

Francis snuck in at three in the morning. He found Gilbert working on his computer by lamplight and Antonio asleep on the couch. Despite being tired, he carried a glow and a smile with him. Seeing his friends like this made him smile more. Things were back to normal now. Shame on him for thinking rain couldn't fall up into clouds. "Why are you still awake?" he whispered as he laid a hand on Gilbert's shoulder. The younger man jumped and craned his neck up, shifting just slightly so Francis' hand fell away. Not quite back to normal, then.

Gilbert closed out of his windows with a little too much speed not to be suspicious. He jerked a thumb at Antonio. "He wanted to wait up for you. I just needed to do some homework. Calculus if you must know. Where have you been?"

Francis didn't need to know. Math made him grimace. "A girl." No need to elaborate. His words were met with a sigh.

"You really do play around too much. Don't you get tired of nameless faces?" Gilbert asked. A distant look passed over Francis' face and he couldn't quite call it happy. He didn't have a word for the emotion though. Maybe something like longing, but far colder, heavier.

"Don't you get tired of not getting laid?" Francis countered with.

All of Gilbert's questions evaporated with those words. He brandished his pencil like a knife and Francis backed up well out of reach. "At least I know my lovers' names."

"Alissa," Francis said abruptly. Gilbert tilted his head. "Maybe you'll get to meet this one if things go well."

xXx

They did get to meet Alissa when Friday rolled around and Francis planned to meet her for a lunch date. At the start of living together, they wrote out the rule of no dates inside the home. That was their sacred ground. So the trio waited together at a local coffee shop. They chatted until Francis received a text and bounced up for his seat. The other two stared at him, taken aback by this show of excitement. Francis got flighty around pretty faces and bubbled and talked and flirted, but he didn't jump from his seat so fast it nearly knocked to the ground. Behind the usual behavior lay a weariness as if he forced himself through those actions and to be happy with them. Not now though.

A girl stalked toward them, head high as if she couldn't care less who stood in front of her. That was, until she saw Francis and her face split into a grin. Francis dashed up to her and kissed her cheek, waving bye to his friends and leading her to the car.

Antonio spit out a mouthful of muffin and Gilbert whined in disgust as some bits slopped onto his sleeve. When he looked up, a thrill of shock went down his spine. Gilbert glanced over to his companion. "Doesn't she look a bit like...?"

Antonio continued staring at the car. "Arthur? Yes. She looks exactly like him." The two sat together, forgetting to move, forgetting to speak. They didn't need to watch each other to know what they thought because they shared the same conclusion. Both turned at the exact same time to lock eyes.

"He'll end up crying for sure."

* * *

><p>Notes: Cher Ami was a real pigeon who carried a message during WW1 that ended up saving the lives of almost 200 American soldiers. Although she was shot and blinded in one eye, the leg carrying the message nearly severed, she flew all the way home. The story makes me think of Gilbert and his birds.<br>The painting mentioned is, as far as I can tell, really in the LACMA. Not sure about Rembrandt and Cézanne, though when googling I saw something about it.

And a quick update: I will be writing this story for NaNoWriMo this year. Because of that, I won't be updating for a month or two, but hopefully I'll finish the story in that time. Haha, with a goal of 55k, I can only hope. I don't really know how long this story will be though. Ciao until then!


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